by Natalie Dean
But then her hands went to the button of her jean shorts and he jolted back to reality. Gripping one of them, he held it still.
“Stop,” he rasped, trying to keep his eyes on the ceiling, on her face, anything but the valley of her cleavage below, or the stories that her bare skin showed. Even with him trying his best, he saw a long scar over one shoulder, and one looked like a birthmark on her side. Three small, circular marks sat just below her collarbone, almost silvery-white against her tanned skin.
Thankfully, however, she did. Freezing just as he had been just moments earlier. She was stiff, but she allowed him to gently push her hands to her side and step away.
“What are you doing?” he asked finally, his tongue once again feeling heavy in his mouth. He swore that the girl was running by rules that he didn’t understand, that he didn’t even know, and his head was beginning to hurt from it.
Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke. “I… the hotel room… You bought it tonight because…” She licked her lips, and finally, she looked up at him. It was in that stare that he realized just how young and small she was and the position of power he had over her. “I thought you wanted me to… repay you? For my friend?”
And then all of it hit him at once.
Oh goodness. Oh goodness no! It took all of his control to keep his world from shattering around him and flipping out. She didn’t think he was helping her. She didn’t think he was providing her shelter because she needed it and he could. She thought he was buying her.
Her friend’s life for her own body. How many times had she told him that she wasn’t selling herself? But when it came down to procuring what her friend needed, she was willing to make that sacrifice—a sacrifice that she had in no way been willing to make before.
No.
No, no, no!
He needed to move, needed to do something, so he walked to where she had thrown her shirt then handed it to her carefully.
“Frenchie, that’s not what’s happening here.” He was sick again. Because he was beginning to realize that the reason the young woman was so sure that he was going to take advantage of her was because so many people must have tried before. And maybe they succeeded.
No, he couldn’t think of that at all, because then he really would lose his lunch and he had a feeling that was the last thing Frenchie needed to see.
“You never have to do anything like that with me. Or anybody for that matter. Like you said, you’re not for sale.”
With that he retreated all the way to the door, ready to make a break for it. He vaguely recognized if this were any other situation, that his body might have been excited by seeing such a beautiful woman so bare in front of him, but he couldn’t get past the horror of the situation. The implication of it all.
But Frenchie didn’t look any less relieved. “But… that doesn’t make any sense. Why else would you buy me a hotel room? Why else would you get all of this for us?”
“Because you needed it.”
“People don’t do things like this. They don’t go out and drop money on people for nothing. Even charities are a write-off.”
He didn’t have an answer for her, so instead he just opened the door and stepped outside. “Goodnight, Frenchie, please try to rest. You have the only key card, so I’ll meet you at the clinic tomorrow.”
And then he closed the door because he really didn’t think that he could handle anything else.
He managed to keep himself in check all the way until he got into his truck, but then his hands went to the top of his head and he let out a cry of frustration. As soon as he got home, he was definitely going to have to hit up his personal gym so that he could vent some of the frustration that was building up so intensely in him. He felt like if one more thing happened that he just might pop then and there.
He was a king of suppression, of always maintaining his composure, but the day’s events had seriously challenged him. When he was done yelling, he put the keys in the ignition and drove home. But the entire way there, he had to force himself not to think about who Frenchie had known in the past to make her think all the things that she did.
That was one road he knew he shouldn’t go down.
12
Frenchie
She stared at the door, eyes wide, heart pounding, and understanding absolutely nothing.
A rich man was buying her things, helping her, setting her up in a really fancy hotel room, but he didn’t want… her?
That didn’t compute. It made absolutely no sense and went against everything she knew. Rich people didn’t help others for nothing. Everything was money, profit, and transactions to them. Everything was about gain, gain, gain, so he had to want something from her.
And yet he was gone, and she was the one in the room, the room key laying on the table to her right.
Rushing to the door, she slid the chain into the lock before sliding the additional deadbolt for protection. She stepped back a moment, then thought better and got a chair to put under the handle.
There.
That made her feel slightly better.
Feeling like she was in a daze, she walked over to the bedroom area. She couldn’t believe how big the room was. When he said that he was going to get them a hotel, she’d been shocked. She’d fully been about to tell him exactly where to shove it when she realized that having a safe place indoors for the week was going to be Tawny’s best bet at recovery. Frenchie had seen what a bad infection could do to someone like them. It had been old Mike who’d gotten a cut in his foot, and by the time he got enough money up to go get it treated, the infection had moved to his blood and he’d gone septic. He never left the hospital after that, and since none of Frenchie or her friends were kin, the hospital wouldn’t release his ashes to them either.
She didn’t want that for Tawny, so she’d agreed, even knowing what it was going to cost her.
…except it didn’t seem to be costing her anything?
She flung herself back on the bed, so exhausted she could cry. Except she hadn’t cried since she was eighteen and had no intention of starting that back up again.
Not that she had been much of a crier before that. Her stepfather had assured that much. He always said that she had been manipulating him with her tears, that she was trying to trick him, so he’d taken to putting out his cigarettes on her or making her stick her hands in hot water until she stopped.
Her fingers idly went up to the three small circles just above her collarbone, tracing them as she recalled the look of shock on the rich cowboy’s face as she’d been shirtless in front of him. His expression had been so alarmed that it had actually managed to make her forget how upset she was for just a moment. …was she reading everything wrong?
Sleep rushed up on her fast despite how worried she was about everything. When was the last time she had slept in a real bed? It had to at least been a summer earlier. She’d been on the road with a traveling carnival and a flash flood had forced all of them to be housed in a hotel for the night. And even then, it’d been three to a bed for all the non-performers and management. The last time she’d had such a large bed entirely to herself was years ago.
Kicking off her shoes, she thought back to the moment when she’d been standing in front of Solomon, his large hands on her wrists. How had she never noticed just how big his hands were before? He could have easily broken her arm, or overtaken her, but he looked more horrified than anything else. Like the idea of him being able to buy her was truly awful.
And it was, but she wasn’t used to other people thinking that.
He’d looked so alarmed in that moment that it had startled her too, leaving the two of them staring at each other like a couple of morons.
What a wild ride.
Scooting up the blanket, she fully meant to tuck herself under the covers. But all she managed was to grab a pillow and put it under her head before she was slipping right into her slumber.
* * *
Frenchie paced outside of the clini
c, wondering for the twentieth time or so if she had died and her entire experience over the past few days was just some sort of very in-depth illusion. Because really, any sort of “life flashing before her eyes” thing would be far too depressing.
When she had woken up, she’d been startled more than anything, unable to figure out where she was or why her back and shoulders didn’t ache. But then things came rushing back to her and she felt her cheeks color.
Oh, goodness gracious, she really had taken her shirt off right in front of Solomon and basically accused him of soliciting her for prostitution! She was such an idiot! But what else was she supposed to think? He’d obviously dropped some serious bank on her and she had no idea what to think of that.
She still didn’t, as she paced, but she had decided to stop obsessing over it and just sort of deal with things as they happened. She’d always been pretty good at thinking on her feet, and as long as Tawny was safe, she was pretty sure that she could get them out of any bad situation, no matter how sticky.
Besides, even if everything all went to crap, she sure did enjoy the steaming hot shower she had taken in the morning, standing there for about half an hour or so while she scrubbed all of the grossness off of her.
It had been weird, not having to rush out to get herself warm or to beat the crowds at the gym to use a shower, or to grab stale bagels. Instead, she puttered around, stretched, then went to the hotel laundry and paid a couple dollars of quarters to wash all her clothes that she wasn’t wearing. Which wasn’t a lot, but hey, it was exciting to have something freshly laundered.
She had finished everything up that she could to occupy herself, it was still only ten. But she figured that she could get to the clinic early and make sure that Tawny had the go-ahead to leave. Besides, it felt strange not to walk at all, and she figured the fresh air would do her some good.
She’d arrived without anything exciting happening, but when she’d gone in, the nurse had said that Tawny was still sleeping it off so they didn’t want to wake her right away. Which meant instead of visiting with her friend and catching her up on everything that had happened, she was stuck just waiting around.
And Frenchie had never been very good at waiting. Hence, the pacing.
But unlike usual, it wasn’t doing anything to calm her, and she only felt relief when she saw Solomon’s familiar fancy truck pull up.
He still mystified her, and his bizarre actions made her stomach twist with dread and anticipation, but she would be lying if she also didn’t feel a strange sort of happiness at seeing him again. Although his questions could be annoying and he really had no idea how the world worked, he was strangely good at dealing with things. He hadn’t freaked out like she thought he would when he’d first seen Tawny. He’d been calm and collected, in fact. He didn’t demand to know what happened to her, or why someone had smacked her around so hard; he’d just done whatever Frenchie said she needed.
She wrinkled her nose as her mind connected those dots. Considering his actions, maybe she could afford to give him the benefit of the doubt.
But that was hard for her. The last non-homeless person she had really trusted had led to her almost being carted all the way back home. It was only her flexibility and some quick thinking that had gotten her out of that, and she didn’t really need a repeat experience.
“And here I thought I was early,” Solomon said as he got out of his car. A cup of to-go coffee in both of his large hands.
He was dressed more casually than she had seen him before, in a soft-looking T-shirt and black sweatpants. She wasn’t sure if he was aware of how the fabric of his top clung slightly to his muscles, showing just how built he was, but she certainly didn’t think she could bring it up without sounding creepy.
“You are. I’m just earlier.”
It took a lot of her willpower not to let out a huge sigh of relief that he wasn’t being weird about what had happened the night before. She had almost been afraid that he wouldn’t show at all, leaving her alone to get Tawny to the hotel he had bought for them, but she guessed her worry was for nothing.
“Here, I got you this,” he said, handing her the coffee. “Like you had it in the diner, two sugars, one cream.”
She found herself staring at him in surprise. Not only had he paid attention to how she had ordered her coffee, but he’d remembered it? She was beginning to wonder if he was some sort of handsome alien rather than a human being. That certainly made more sense than all of his bizarre giving-spree, considering they had met when he’d chased her down for daring to tag his family’s property.
“Thanks,” she barely remembered to say, her hand shaking a little as she took the cup. It was still piping warm in her hands, and she hugged it to herself gratefully. She was aware that she’d been a bit… rude a couple of times to the man, but it was because she had been so certain of his intentions. After all, the world played by a very specific set of rules, and she had learned most of them the hard way.
But what if… what if she was wrong?
No. That wasn’t possible.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I grabbed a couple of things I thought the two of you might need so you can bum around in the hotel and not have to do anything.”
She didn’t miss the flush that instantly colored his high cheekbones. Goodness, he really had some bone structure, didn’t he?
He grimaced then said, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said bum. I—”
Of all the things for him to be worried about! She couldn’t help it; she let out a soft laugh and just shook her head. “It’s fine. I understood what you meant. You’re a bit jumpy, aren’t you?”
He stood a respectful distance away from her, and she wondered if it was because of her stupid move the night before.
“Must be the caffeine,” he deferred smoothly. “Why are we outside?”
“Tawny’s still passed out. Apparently, she either is really sensitive to the drugs or she was pulling too many all-nighters in a row. Which, thinking about it, she probably was if she was traveling.”
“She couldn’t sleep on the bus or train?”
“She’s a seventeen-year-old girl traveling on her own. She can’t sleep anywhere in public without risk.”
“Right. Of course.”
An interesting thing happened. It was something she had only barely noticed the day before, but with a full night’s sleep, she found herself alert enough to catch it in real time. Occasionally, when she said a particularly grim thing about life, Solomon would go a little gray, the corners of his mouth turning downward. It wasn’t a full-on frown, like he was disagreeing with her or thought she was lying, but he definitely seemed affected by what he was learning.
Which was interesting all on its own.
“Have you eaten yet today?”
She started, having slipped into her own head for a minute. “Oh, no. I haven’t. Nerves, I guess.”
“I see a street vendor a little way down the road, want to walk? I could go for a taco or gyro.”
She squinted her eyes in the direction he pointed and thought she maybe saw the glint of a silver cart. Suddenly, her stomach gave a rumble and she found herself licking her lips once again. She really needed to stop doing that; they were already so chapped.
“Sure, I could go for some food.”
“All right.”
And then he was walking off, leaving Frenchie to hurry after him.
Geez, he had some long legs. It took her two and a half steps for every one of his, and if she wasn’t already a quick walker, she would have been left in the dust. She took in his height and muscles and the confident way he walked.
Not bad.
He glanced over his shoulder—no doubt to check if she was still following, and she tore her gaze away from his body and tried to look just past him. She wasn’t sure how successful she was at that.
It definitely seemed that she was rusty when it came to checking someone out. Then again, she couldn’t remember the last time that she had bee
n attracted to someone who wasn’t on a movie screen. Her world didn’t have romance, and it wasn’t like she trusted anyone enough for that anyway.
But when she looked at Solomon’s broad shoulders, and his handsome face with those eyes that always seemed to be asking so much, she couldn’t help but feel the tiniest sliver of… of… well it was something, even if it was so small that she could barely feel it flickering alongside the fear and apprehension.
They made it to the food cart within a few minutes and without any more of him catching her staring awkwardly at things she shouldn’t be looking at. He ended up ordering a couple of tacos for himself while Frenchie got kebabs. She figured she might as well stock up on protein while the going was good.
Solomon still kept a respectful distance from her as they waited for their food, his gaze either up in the sky or solidly on her face. She couldn’t help but feel a bit of embarrassment in the back of her mind as they stood there. Was he thinking about what she looked like without her shirt? She knew her bra was old, and she wasn’t generously endowed like a pinup girl, or flared out with wide hips like the models du jour, but she didn’t think she was that bad either.
Was he repulsed by her, or was he just trying to be a good Christian boy? She didn’t know, and she couldn’t think of a way to find out either. So many Christians that she met weren’t very Christlike at all, and it was impossible to tell them apart from the real deal.
“These are good,” he said in surprise as they headed back to the clinic.
Frenchie noticed that his pace had changed, going at about half the speed he had before. That was a relief because she wasn’t sure about what technique would be best when it came to speed-walking while eating meat off a pointy stick.
“Yeah, we really have the best food trucks around here. NYC folks always brag, but they don’t really compare.”
“You’ve been to New York?” he asked casually. Or at least he tried to ask casually. But she could see in the corner of her eye how his shoulders straightened, and his posture became more attentive. He was curious, but he wanted to respect her privacy, it seemed. How utterly novel.